Control
by SeverEstHolmes
Summary: Cas is human - and he's never felt more out of control... Oneshot, contains references to ED/Depression - please keep yourself safe! Enjoy! :)


**A/N: Trigger Warning - this fic contains references to eating disorders, please keep yourself safe while reading, and if you feel triggered STOP reading and make yourself safe! Enjoy :)**

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If Cas could have one thing back from his time as an angel, it would be the feeling of purpose… He would have given anything not to feel he was a lump of flesh that could do very little and affect even less. It was soul destroying, having had that power, and now to be completely worthless to anyone. Being human was not at all what he had ever desired; it was complicated, and messy. He had been stationed in among humans for over a thousand years, but he had remained aloof to their daily rituals and inane practices – he had never needed to know those things, until now.

With his grace gone, he was as defenceless as a baby and on a developmental par with an infant also. It had been scary – to find himself weak… but he had been grateful for the Winchesters. Sam and Dean had co-opted him to help them; maybe they had just taken pity on him now that he was so worthless. All he knew was that he wouldn't have made it without the two of them – not on his own.

Dean and Sam had taken it in turns to try and cheer Cas up – they both assured him that being human wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. Yet Castiel was inclined to disagree with them, neither of them had ever experienced what it was like to be angelic and then not… If he had died this would all be over and he wouldn't have to face learning all these new processes that humans had to do; or deal with the new sensations and feelings that he experienced now he was fully human.

It took him a while to distinguish between physical and mental sensations; and to understand the feelings of hunger and thirst. Some things came naturally, he didn't need to have sleep explained to him – it just happened.

After a month of experiencing life completely as a human, Castiel felt only infinitesimally more settled than he had been right after he fell. The barrage of emotions seemed unending; and just as he got to grips with one, another would hit him unexpectedly. Cas wanted the ride to stop – he didn't like being the passenger trapped in a vessel being catapulted through a storm. It was a bit ironic in all honesty – now Castiel felt he understood how Jimmy Novak had felt when he had taken over his body. Strapped into a vehicle over which he had almost no control. He didn't like it, he _despised _it…

It wasn't even being human that he didn't like, that was inconvenient and slightly unpleasant, but it was the powerlessness that really baited him. He was open and vulnerable to injury, disease, and all those other human conditions. And nothing – not food, or drink, not even the companionship of his friends – could fill the gaping hole that had opened up in his gut. He felt _empty… _He _was _empty… All the time.

When he had first felt it he had been unable to recognise what it meant. It was an emptiness akin to hunger, but it ran so much deeper. Bodily hunger could be easily remedied, yet this hole remained – unendingly present, slowly niggling and consuming more of him. Eventually Castiel could understand: the chasm inside him had been filled before, by his grace… With its absence, the emptiness only spread. What had begun as a quibbling patch of nothingness had consumed the rest of his body. He tried to ignore it, and when that didn't work, he tried to fill it – with food, and with his friends. Sometimes he gained temporary relief, but it never lasted long. The endless hole always returned, often worse than it had felt before. And as the chasm grew, Cas was aware of accompanying feelings that he could recognise. Doubt whispered in the back of Cas' mind, alerting him to everything around him – constantly causing him to mistrust Sam and Dean… After everything he had ever done to them, how could they show him so much kindness? Why had they not turned their backs on him the moment that he was no longer of use to them? Occasionally he felt strong enough to rubbish that voice, but not often… Most of the time he understood exactly why it plagued him. He just wanted some control over what was happening to him – to his body; no matter how small that control was!

He couldn't control what was happening to him, he couldn't exorcise demons with just one touch, he couldn't protect Sam and Dean when they were hunting, he couldn't heal them when they got hurt… but he could control what he put in his mouth.

So little by little Castiel began to take control… First it was not indulging himself in the high fat and grease coated meals that Dean had introduced him to. A fry up for breakfast and a burger for dinner might be easy, but it was just as easy to have fruit for breakfast and a salad for dinner. Dean jokingly accused him of turning 'traitor' after the fourth night of Cas choosing salad over a burger; clearly Sam's choices had gotten to him. Cas insisted that it was just for a change – and Dean didn't bring it up again. But it escalated quickly inside Cas' mind – very quickly it wasn't just choosing the "healthy choice" when it came to what he was eating; it was avoiding food altogether… the rumbling in his stomach, the hunger that dug at his insides, wasn't an annoyance – but a good feeling. It made him feel strong, _in control._

Over the course of a month – in which he spent most mealtimes picking at the food he had, or avoiding it altogether, he could see a difference in himself… His face was thinner, his cheekbones more visible on his face; his collarbones were sharper on his body, and he could almost count every rib on his ribcage. Cas knew this was wrong, there was a reason why humans ate, but that couldn't compare to the control that it handed him… The shrinking of the flesh was the autonomy over his own body that he had so desperately craved. He was good at this too… Dean and Sam hadn't suspected what he was doing yet, he was good at hiding it well enough for them not to have become suspicious about his weight loss or his avoidance of food. His clothes were growing looser; his belt was now on the last hole in the leather, and it was barely holding his pants up. Very shortly he would have to figure out what to do when the belt was too big. Buy new clothes perhaps? Maybe he could convince Sam and Dean that he needed some new clothes, what with the constant repetition of his one shirt and pants, they would probably believe that! But then they might want to go with him: Dean not so much, but Sam would – he would want to see Cas try on stuff other than his general uniform… And that might result in Sam getting suspicious when Cas didn't know what his waist measurement was…

The lump of flesh that – only a month and a half previous – he had been able to pinch within his thumb and finger, was now all gone… Now when he pinched the skin around his midriff, his fingers didn't sink into flabby fat, but sent a sharp tinge as he came into contact with muscle. His whole physique had changed, and he felt better for it – he was lean and slight, much quicker and lighter than before… There was no downside.

Well, not yet anyway… The grumbling of his stomach became a little more annoying, always choosing the wrong times to become audible, but not unpleasant enough for it to be a real downside. In fact, Castiel used it as a reminder that he was in control of his body, he could be in charge of his hunger – of when he allowed it to rise up in him and lick at his insides, but also when he abated it. Cas enjoyed it, this thing, whatever it was; and the more he did it, the more he saw results, the better it felt – the more it proved he was in control. Until it backfired on him.

It was late on a Thursday evening; the three of them were in a bar outside New Ulm, Minnesota, having just successfully completed a hunt. With no urgent leads on a new job, Sam and Dean had insisted that the three of them needed a celebratory night – which roughly translated to a night in a bar. Dean had been trying, in vain, to teach Cas how to play pool; so that he could help when they were playing against other punters for money. So far Cas had proven awful, and Dean had taken to using Cas as bait to attract other people to play him. Cas was standing next to the pool table as Dean tried to explain the angles that were necessary for the game, but none of it was going into Cas' head.

He had drunk a beer with Sam and Dean earlier on, and the alcohol seemed to have gone straight to his head. He felt rather weak, shaky; he leant harder on the pool cue and hoped desperately that this feeling would pass. It didn't abate though, it got worse – Dean's words were swimming in his head, sounding very fuzzy and far away; the whole room seemed to be rocking from side to side. He felt very unstable. He closed his eyes, trying to refix the world around him into stasis, and he heard Sam's voice saying his name very close to his ear: "Cas? Cas, are you alright?" But he couldn't answer, he couldn't even open his eyes again – he struggled against the feeling for a few seconds longer, trying to keep himself upright, then everything closed in and he was falling…

Cas could feel something soft underneath his head; he was lying horizontally on something soft and comfy. Very slowly, he opened his eyes and raised his head- he was back in their motel room and was lying, slightly ruffled, on his bed.

"Cas?" Sam's voice startled him and Cas realised that Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed next to his, watching him. He moved slightly, and was aware of pain in his knees and hands; he groaned. Dean! He's conscious!" Cas closed his eyes; he could hear the movement which must be caused by Dean.

"Cas?" Dean had put his hand on Cas' shoulder and given it a gentle squeeze; Cas opened his eyes and saw both of the Winchester brothers staring down at him.

"What?" His voice sounded weaker than he had ever experienced it.

"You fainted." Sam explained gently.

"I... what?" He repeated, unable to get his brain in gear; he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed- both of them looked too concerned for his liking.

"Went down pretty hard too." Dean commented, well at least that explained the pain in his knees.

"Oh... I, well-" he tried to think of something to say to make the two of them stop staring at him like that. "I must have had too much to drink." It was a lame excuse, he had hardly had anything to drink and they must know that.

"Bull." Dean replied quickly, "You didn't have more than two beers and we've witnessed you drink a whole liquor store before."

"I am no longer an angel, Dean. My tolerance levels have changed." He answered, mustering up as much authority as he could.

"And we've drunk with you since." Dean retorted; Cas remained silent, not sure how to argue against that.

"When was the last time you had something to eat Cas?" Sam asked, Cas' heart leapt up into his throat and was constricting his vocal cords- he looked between Sam and Dean and didn't like the looks that they were giving him... Did they already know? Had they found out his secret? No! He didn't want them to know, they would take away his control if he knew! He wrapped his arms around his abdomen, painfully aware that his insides were growling with the mention of food.

"I- uh, earlier on with you guys." he lied, hoping that he sounded convincingly confused about the subject.

"Yeah, moving food about your plate doesn't count as actually eating Cas." Dean replied. "Don't lie to us." for the first time since Cas had become human he was blatantly aware that Dean was threatening him. He flicked his eyes between Dean and Sam, desperately hoping that one of them would take away this question.

"I... Uh..." Cas began; he was desperately trying to grapple in his head to come up with something. "I... I can't remember." He admitted lowly, dropping his head down to look at his knees.

"You can't remember as in earlier on, or you actually can't remember?" Dean asked sharply, Cas shook his head slightly. "Like – how long?"

"A week…" Cas muttered, closing his eyes and sighing.

"A – a week?!" Dean asked incredulously, "Cas, are you serious?" Dean was rubbing his hand across his face, looking pained.

"I told you Dean." Sam turned to Dean, but Dean didn't seem to be in the mood for 'I told you so's'.

"Shut up!" Dean snapped, "I didn't think he'd be stupid enough to do anything like that!"

"It's not stupid." Cas broke in suddenly, he was annoyed at Sam and Dean talking about him like he wasn't in the room; this pronouncement from him made both Sam and Dean stop and stare at him.

"Not stupid?"Dean's voice was strained, as though he was trying to keep himself calm. _"Not stupid Cas? _It is nothing _but _stupid! You are _starving yourself! How _is that not stupid?"

"It makes sense to me…" Cas answered seriously, he was beginning to feel defensive about the manner in which they were talking to him.

"How Cas?" Sam asked, unlike his brother he seemed to be slightly calmer about the whole situation. "Explain how it makes sense… because to us," He indicated to Dean and himself, "What you're doing doesn't make sense… if anything, I'd say you had an eating disorder."

"A _what?" _Dean cut across Sam before Cas could answer. "No – no way, he's not got some chick disease Sam."

"Dean! It _isn't _a girls' disease – have you _looked _at him?" Sam exclaimed, pointing at Cas wildly. "He's a wreck!"

"No, I'm not…" Cas said, but Sam was shaking his head.

"Cas, I can see your ribcage through your shirt… we can see the amount of weight you've lost in the past month." Sam answered. So they had noticed the weight he had lost, Cas shuffled on the edge of the bed, he didn't know quite what to say – and the way Dean was looking at him made his stomach drop.

"I…" Cas felt close to tears suddenly, he wanted to leave this subject and not talk about it.

"Come on Cas," Dean growled, "I _need_ to understand." Cas put his head in his hands and rubbed them across his face. "Cas, talk to us buddy!"

"Ever since I… fell…" Cas tried to speak, but his throat seemed to close up; he cleared his throat. "I have no control anymore, of anything." Cas forced out, "I'm worthless, and powerless… I'm of no use to anyone." Cas had deflated, he suddenly felt very small – as though he had been trampled on.

"Don't say that." Sam said quietly, but firmly. "You are _always _of use… no matter what Cas."

"I'm not," Cas twisted his hands in his lap, his eyes were burning with tears that he didn't want to let spill. "I can't _do _anything… I'm not… I _need _to be able to control something!" He covered his face with his hands as the tears began to fall onto his lap. He felt the bed go down beside him and an arm was thrust around his shoulder which pulled him closer into him; he could smell the leather of Dean's jacket and his head rested against his shoulder.

"Cas, don't you _ever _think that you're useless." Dean told Cas lowly.

"I feel like I am though… I just need something to be able to control." Cas replied, opening his eyes and looking at Dean through blurry eyes.

"But food is not the way to have control Cas," Sam answered, he was sitting across from Cas, who was sniffing periodically.

"It's the only way that I've found that works…" Cas murmured.

"It's not working though, is it Cas?" Dean pointed out, "Look at yourself! You're skin and bones!" He grabbed Cas' wrist, wrapping his fingers around the middle of Cas' forearm – Cas was surprised when he saw that Dean's fingers touched. "This is not control Cas, this is not healthy – you're _ill." _Cas took in the enormity of Dean's words very slowly; he had never thought of himself as ill…

"But, I don't think anything else will work…" Cas said honestly. "I felt like I was falling, like I couldn't get in control of anything – but this has given me power again."

"Have you honestly tried anything else Cas?" Sam asked, and Cas paused – he _had _tried but nothing else had worked. "This eating disorder," Dean coughed loudly, raising his eyebrow at his brother, "Or whatever it is… you might think that it's giving you power, but all its doing is making you weaker. You passed out tonight; not because of the beer you drank, but cause you haven't eaten anything… This isn't the way to go Cas."

"However you feel, whether it's scared, or out of control, or pissed off – we can help you find yourself Cas." Dean offered, "It won't be easy, I'm not saying it's gonna all get better in a second, but it definitely will be better than this…"

"I don't know if I want to let this go…" Cas whispered honestly.

"If you can gain control in areas that aren't so devastating to your health, then you won't feel like you need to do this anymore." Sam answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Well… no Cas… I can't tell you one hundred per cent that everything will be perfect." Sam said honestly.

"But it'll sure as hell be better than you dying." Dean cut in gruffly.

"What?" Cas turned quickly to stare at Dean, "I'm not dying!"

"What do you think happens to people who don't eat Cas?" Dean replied. "They don't just keep on losing weight forever! In the end, they either die of starvation, or they burn their heart out. So it might be a rough road out of this, but it's better than you dying." Dean spoke in such an impassioned way that Cas felt guilty for not understanding why the two of them were getting so upset about this.

"We don't want to take your control away, Cas…" Sam reassured him, which was exactly the thought that had just run through Castiel's mind. "We just want your control to not hurt yourself in the process."

"I understand." Cas answered, nodding his head.

"So you'll let us help? You'll _eat _so we can help you get better?" Dean pressed him, Cas screwed up his face for a moment – so many times, Dean and Sam had put their complete trust in him, now it was time for him to repay that to them and trust that they were going to help, and not harm, him.

"Okay… I'll try."

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**A/N: I hope you've enjoyed reading this... I'd really love to know what you think of it!**


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